It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. And that would spoil it. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. He whispered in her ear. And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad.
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